


Control

by Dracouroboros



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Gags, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 04:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracouroboros/pseuds/Dracouroboros
Summary: Sometimes Hanzo gets lost in his own head about things outside his control, so it helps to let someone else take over and remind him he can’t control everything





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving my fics from tumblr over to here. 
> 
> All my fics are unbeta'd btw, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes. Also, this one I felt is rushed near the end.

Hanzo, for the majority of his life, had always been in control.

At least, he had been given the illusion of it, which was perhaps why the punishment he was receiving was so appropriate. There was no illusion of who was in control here and now: stripped naked and bound, he lay bent over McCree’s lap on the edge of their shared bed.

He jerked from the force of the strike against his ass, the strangled shout that followed muffled by the gag clenched between his teeth, pressing down on his tongue. The knot dug into the back of his shaved skull, his hair falling loose from its tie with his squirming. He twisted, bucking against McCree’s leg, his hard cock dragging across the rough texture of McCree’s jeans, striping a line of precum over the dark material. Another strike to the same spot jolted him, and he choked out another yelp around the gag, saliva slipping past the corner of his lips and down his chin, unable to wipe it away with his hands bound by the wrist at the small of his back, held steady by McCree.

He whined, tears blurring his vision as several more sharp, quick slaps rained down on his bare ass and the back of his thighs. His skin radiated heat, the burn spreading to his bones. He whined again, high and pleading, and McCree finally gave pause, his hand stroking over the heated skin: long, smoothing lines over the curve of his ass down the back of his thighs. He repeated the movement, his feather light touch slow and methodical, before his hand slid down between Hanzo’s legs.

Hanzo made a broken noise in the back of his throat, writhing in McCree’s grip as McCree cupped his balls in his hand, his deft fingers massaging them; lazy, slow movements that made them tighten in his hand, heat rushing through Hanzo. His muscles tensed as he inhaled sharply, garbling unintelligibly around the gag. McCree looked up at him, meeting his eyes when Hanzo twisted awkwardly to look over his shoulder, his eyes pleading with McCree.

‘Oh, Hanzo, darlin’,’ McCree said softly, a sad sigh escaping his lips. Hanzo’s heart jolted with the fear of disappointing McCree, another to add to the list of disappointments Hanzo inevitably caused. He whimpered around the gag as McCree continued to caress and stroke his balls, the pad of his thumb pressing firmly against the sensitive skin of Hanzo’s perineum, making him twitch and jolt. ‘You still want punishment? You think you deserve more?’

Hanzo nodded his head jerkily, shifting his hips: he couldn’t accept the pleasure that was swirling low in his gut, shooting straight to his cock, dancing along the edge of the stinging pain radiating from his ass. He didn’t deserve how his mind fogged with the contradicting sensations, losing himself in the heat coursing through his body even as he tried to reel himself back, tried to keep his focus, his control.

‘Han, sweetheart,’ McCree said quietly, his prosthetic thumb rubbing the inside of one of Hanzo’s bound wrists. ‘Look at you: you’re not in control of this.’

Hanzo whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as tears spilled down his cheeks, hanging his head as he imagined what a sight he looked, bound and gagged and thrown over McCree’s lap, unable to speak or move freely, other than to rut his aching, dripping cock against McCree’s leg like a dog. What would the Clan think of their great, honourable heir now?

The thought, unbidden, made his heart seize, his eyes flying open as he stuttered over a breath. Sweat prickled his skin, soaking into the fabric gagging and binding him, pooling in the long line of his spine and between his shoulderblades. He choked out a whine, a fresh wave of tears welling in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. He couldn’t do this. He shouldn’t be doing this, it was obscene, undignified, beneath him. He should be better than this, to want this, to need it. He should –

A flare of pain made him shout around the gag, his legs slamming shut, trapping McCree’s hand between them. His eyes rolled up as McCree kept the strip of skin at the base of his shaft pinched between his nails.

‘What’re you thinking, Hanzo?’ McCree asked softly, finally releasing his hold, returning to caressing him gently. Hanzo went limp on his lap, groaning weakly in relief. ‘Cause whatever you’re thinking, you’re thinking too much.’

‘You’re not in control,’ McCree continued soothingly, his voice honey smooth and sweet. His fingers slipped down to his cock, dragging his palm along the frenum ladder running up the underside. Hanzo shivered at the touch, his nerves fiercely attuned to McCree’s movements, waiting for pain or pleasure. McCree kept the slow pace of long, leisurely strokes, his fingers grazing down his length, easing back his foreskin and sliding the pad of his thumb over Hanzo’s leaking slit, teasing him. ‘Let me take it from you. Just for a little while.’

Hanzo warred with himself, lulled by McCree’s soft encouragements, stubborn pride resisting. His whole body trembled, exhausted from the onslaught of sensations McCree lavished onto him: surrender would be so easy, to let McCree take care of him as he saw fit, so Hanzo didn’t have to care or even think. After a few long minutes of careful touches and quiet, soothing encouragements, the tension evaporated from him, going boneless in his lap.

‘Oh, you are  _so_ good, Hanzo. You are doing  _so_ well.’

Hanzo’s face burned almost as hot as his ass at the sound of McCree’s praise, weakly shaking his head. McCree took him in hand, the rough callouses on his fingers dragging across the silken skin of his cock, his thumb running down the ends of the barbells, making them twist and shift under Hanzo’s skin. White spots and bright flashes danced behind Hanzo’s eyelids, each sharp, shallow exhale from his lungs escaping in a deep, throaty moan. His abdomen tightened, his blood rushing in his ears as he felt the swell of his impending orgasm deep in his belly.

McCree shifted above him, folding himself over Hanzo till he could feel McCree’s breath ghost across his lower back, the scratch of his thick beard down across the curve of his ass. He stiffened, his muscles growing taut as the tension in him grew, reaching the dizzying peaks that would send him plummeting down into blissed out pleasure.

McCree sank his teeth into his hip, the unexpected stab of pain shooting straight to his cock, tipping him over the edge as he came in McCree’s hand, streaking McCree’s pant leg and the carpet with it. His body rocked, his vision going black with the force of it, McCree’s hand insistent as he drove Hanzo through the last wave of pleasure surging through him, before it ebbed away, leaving him in a foggy, numbed bliss, boneless and spent in McCree’s arms.

They remained unmoving for several minutes, catching their breaths. McCree pressed gentle kisses on the bite mark he’d given Hanzo, his hand still trapped between Hanzo’s legs, wrapped loosely around his softening cock.

Finally, McCree shifted under Hanzo, saying something Hanzo didn’t quite catch. McCree moved them, and he felt the soft, cool bed sheets underneath him and decided he didn’t care, lying stretched out on his stomach, his head turned to the side. He mumbled around the gag even as it fell away, stained with sweat and tears and drool, leaving his mouth dry and parched, his jaw aching with the strain from it. Next came the binding around his wrists, hands massaging his shoulders and down his arms, easing the joints to move til he could bring them forward again. His hands automatically went to wipe his face, pushing his hair back and cleaning the drool from his skin. Hurried, embarrassed apologies were shushed, his hair tucked behind his ears, his tears wiped away by gentle fingers.

He closed his eyes, revelling in the gentleness, tucking his arms under the pillow cushioning his head. Drawers by the bed were opened and shut, a cloth carefully ran over his hips and ass before being discarded, then McCree’s deft fingers applied a cool, soothing balm to his skin, quelling the heat radiating from it, the astringent smell accompanying the cream no less welcomed.

Hanzo began drifting off when the bed dipped, and he cracked open an eye as McCree crawled onto the bed next to him. He had stripped to his boxers and tank top, his pants and shirt discarded by the bed. Stretching out beside Hanzo, he piled the free pillows behind him and leaned back against the headboard, crossing his ankles over each other. He rested one hand between Hanzo’s shoulderblades, a solid, reassuring weight that grounded Hanzo where he lay.

Hanzo exhaled a tired, content sigh.

‘How y’doing there, partner?’ McCree asked quietly, tucking his free hand behind his head as he relaxed against the pillows underneath him. ‘What’s in your head?’

‘Quiet. Peace,’ Hanzo listed, his voice scratchy and raw. He closed his eyes and searching through any stray thoughts that flittered across his mind. ‘My thoughts remain on the residual ache. It is constant enough to keep my attention.’

‘That should ease up in an hour or so,’ McCree said, his eyes examining Hanzo carefully. ‘Then we can get you cleaned up proper in the shower.’

‘I do not want to move,’ Hanzo replied, burying his face into the pillow. McCree chuckled.

‘You don’t gotta move your handsome self right now, don’t you worry,’ he assured. ‘But in a while, when you ain’t aching so bad, we can get cleaned up and tucked in for the night comfortably. Also…’

He straightened, grabbing an unopened water bottle from the bedside stand, where he had left it before they had began. He twisted the cap and held it in front of Hanzo. ‘Here. Take little sips. You need help?’

‘No,’ Hanzo replied, shaking his head. He gingerly pushed himself up onto his elbows, taking the bottle from McCree and following his instructions. The water was not as cold as it could have been but no less delicious, soothing the dryness in his throat. He took several more sips, and glanced over his shoulder down his body. Mottled, opaque blue and yellow bruises had sprung up on his skin amidst the redness, deepening to purple in places, but nothing that wouldn’t fade in a few days. The bitemark stood out like a neon sign, sporting the worst of the bruising in a ring of purplish-blue, beads of blood drying on the tiny puncture wounds from McCree’s teeth.

‘You bit me,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ McCree replied with a grin.

‘You broke the skin, too.’

‘But I kissed it better.’

Hanzo snorted, smiling as he took another drink. His smile became strained and tight, before it fell away. ‘I’m sorry, Jesse.’

‘Hey, none of that, now,’ McCree said, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. ‘That’s what we just sorted out, didn’t we?’

Hanzo covered his face with his free hand, rubbing at his forehead. ‘I know. I’m sor–’

He broke off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to find the words to explain and failing. ‘I am a fool.’

‘Nah, darlin’,’ McCree said, shaking his head. He shuffled down the bed til he lay flat against the sheets, looping his arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and encouraging him to lie down. ‘Nah. You just get lost in your own head sometimes, is all. It happens, and it’s okay when it does, cause you have me to get you back out of your own head when you need me. But darlin’, you need to tell me, cause I can’t read your mind.’

‘I know,’ Hanzo said, closing the water bottle and setting it on the bedside table. He rested his head on McCree’s chest, folding his arms underneath him. ‘Thank you, Jesse.’

‘Hey, don’t you worry about it. I got you,’ McCree soothed, drawing an extra blanket over them and wrapped his arms around Hanzo, keeping him close and warm. ‘You just rest for now, then we can clean up and chat some more, or go to sleep if you want.’

Hanzo hummed in agreement, his breathing falling into sync with McCree as he drifted into a peaceful, comfortable doze.


End file.
